


It's Not the Fall that Kills You

by Drag0nst0rm



Category: The Queen's Thief - Megan Whalen Turner
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, But going on the safe assumption that this doesn't perfectly follow canon, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Technically it won't be until the last book comes out, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-27 23:25:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17171459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Drag0nst0rm/pseuds/Drag0nst0rm
Summary: Costis survives a fall mid-battle that would have killed anyone else.Now he just has to get the two year old prince who fell with him back to his king in one piece.





	It's Not the Fall that Kills You

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own Queen's Thief.

Costis wasn’t dead.

He appreciated that fact rather more than he otherwise would have seeing as he’d just been shoved off the edge of a rather impressive cliff onto the jagged rocks below. His back was currently protesting those rocks, but he wasn’t dead, and he could feel his legs, so it was a victory he was grateful for on the whole.

_You’ll never die in a fall unless the god himself drops you._

The full pain hit him a moment later.

Costis groaned. Eugenides complained about being caught midair and lectured. He might complain less about that if jut once he was forced to fall all the way and then survive the consequences.

Then again, knowing his king, probably not.

The king. There was something important about that thought, something the fall had knocked out of his still ringing head.

Distant shouting clarified part of that. The king was still up there. He needed to go help the other guards. He sat up quickly, and the final piece of the puzzle he’d forgotten fell into place.

A small pair of eyes blinked up at him.

The two year old prince had fallen with him.

Given the way the fight had been going up above, it was entirely possible that his two year old _king_ had fallen with him.

The last of the cobwebs fled from Costis’s brain, and he was hit with the full horror of that realization.

There was no easy way to climb up, and with a two year old prince to look after - just prince, surely just prince, his king had fought his way through far more improbable odds before - the climb would be impossible. He would have to start walking and hope another way up presented itself.

He pushed himself, groaning, to his knees. He still had his pack, at least, and his sword. He sheathed the latter and looked down at his prince. 

A prince he was abruptly grateful was giggling madly at his adventure and not shrieking his head off.

“I’ll get you out of this,” he promised the prince.

“Again!” Prince Damen demanded. He crawled over and began tugging at Costis’s tunic for attention. “Again, Costis, again!”

He was, at least, definitely his father’s son. Costis pushed himself the rest of the way up and then carefully picked the prince up as well. There was no blood, he was glad to see. No crying over bruises. Costis had definitely caught the worst of it, which was exactly as it should be.

“We’ll be alright,” he promised the prince. “We’ll be back with the king soon.”

“Da?” Damen asked hopefully.

“That’s right.” The king would defeat his enemies, and then he would come after his son.

Costis wouldn’t consider any other option.

 

The sun was setting by the time Costis found a path out of the ravine they’d fallen into. It should have been a relief to at least finally have a way out.

It would have been if Costis hadn’t heard a horse whinnying at the top.

He froze in the shadow of the cliff.

“Costis?” The boy tugged sleepily at his tunic sleeve. “We gonna climb?”

“Shh,” Costis breathed. “We have to play the quiet game, alright?”

It could be the king. It could be the king and the other guards, here to find Damen. It could just be a merchant or a farmer passing through.

Or it could be Baron Erondites and his men, looking to finish off survivors.

There was no way to be sure from here. He could leave Damen here and go check, but the prince was too young for Costis to be comfortable with that. It would be a risk, and probably a needless one. 

Then again, if it was Erondites, then Costis would be practically handing Damen over on a silver platter, and he wouldn’t be able to fight well with the boy in his arms.

There was a little hollow at the base of the cliff. Costis crouched down in front of it, muscles shrieking a protest after how he’d already abused them, and set Damen down gently.

“You’ve played the hiding game with the king before, right?” Costis honestly wasn’t sure if that was meant to be a real game or early training.

Knowing the king, probably both.

Damen nodded. The solemn effect was somewhat ruined by the fingers he’d stuck into his mouth.

“Good,” Costis breathed. “Well, I’m going to help you hide here, and then I’m going to go take a look around and see if anyone’s come close to finding us yet, alright?”

He could hear the faint sounds of a large group of people in the distance steadily getting closer.

Whoever this was, it wasn’t a lone merchant.

There were a few loose rocks strewn around the base of the cliff. Costis grabbed as many as he could and stacked them up into what he hoped looked like a natural pile. His shoulders throbbed at the effort of lifting some of the larger ones, but he didn’t dare drag them and leave an indention in the dust deeper than a sweep of his sandals could hide.

“Costis?” Damen said fearfully from behind it.

“It’s alright,” Costis panted. “Just a game. Be really quiet, now. It’s all part of the game.”

It wasn’t enough, but it was all he had. He drew his sword and started cautiously up the path out of the ravine.

The path was steep and full of sharp curves. He couldn’t see far ahead, and the dying light wasn’t helping.

The sounds were still getting closer, but the sound was bouncing off the canyon walls. How close was -

It.

Costis barely managed to dive out of the way of the horse’s hooves in time. More thundered past and then curved to circle around him.

Costis scrambled to his feet as he caught sight of the colors of the guards’ uniforms.

Erondites. Here to finish the job.

But if he was here, did that mean the king - ?

Costis held his sword ready and refused to follow that thought to its conclusion.

Erondites rode to the front line of the circle. Flecks of dried blood dotted his face, but his face was twisted up in a manic grin. He looked nothing like the cool, collected baron Costis had once seen in court.

He looked like the king did sometimes when he was drunk and balancing on a section of the roof no wider than his hand, except the king had faith that he wouldn’t fall, and the baron looked like he was already on the way down.

“So the king’s pet guard survived his fall,” Erondites said. “And the king’s son?” His mouth twisted on the word son.

“Dead,” Costis said. He was not a good liar, he knew that, not like his king, but this was the truth that would have been had they not lived in a world where legends still walked, so perhaps he could sell it as fact. “I fell on him. Broke his neck.”

Erondites’s smile widened. “I could almost believe that. You fell quite a ways. I’m curious as to how you did survive.” He leaned forward on his horse. “But if the prince was really dead, you’d be carrying his corpse back to your king, weeping all the way. So. Where is he?”

He could lie till he was blue in the face, and he wouldn’t convince the baron. Lies had never been Costis’s strong suit.

There was no way out of this. Not for him, and probably not for the prince, but Costis could at least buy the king more time to pull off another miracle.

So, so, so . . . 

So Costis went with a form of evasion far more comfortable to him.

He sprang forward, sword flashing, and buried his sword in Erondites’s mount even as it reared up. The guards were on him in an instant, but he fought his way forward to where Erondites had just managed to roll clear and get to his feet.

His fist managed to make a perfect connection with the baron’s nose before the guards managed to drag him to the ground.

Everything went dark.

 

He woke up with his wrists tied to two long poles that had been driven into the ground. Going by the agony in his shoulders and the way the sun had disappeared behind the horizon, they had been that way for awhile.

Damen must be frightened half out of his wits by now.

Unless they’d already found him. And how could they not have when Costis had found such a poor hiding place?

A boot crashed into his back. Costis gritted his teeth against the pain as the guard circled around in front of him.

“Where is he?” the guard demanded.

So they hadn’t found him then.

. . . Had they even bothered _looking_ for him?

Then again, he’d survived an impossible fall with the prince just hours before. 

Maybe he had more than one offering that needed to be made when he got back to the capital.

If he got back to the capital.

Pain erupted in his ribs as the guard kicked out again. “Where’s the prince?” he growled.

“What prince?” Costis spat.

The guard drove back his boot to kick him again. Costis braced himself as best he could.

“Enough,” the baron said, striding into view. His voice had gained a slightly nasal quality, but someone had set his nose back in place.

Pity, that.

“He’s a soldier. He’s used to pain. A few kicks aren’t going to do anything.”

Costis knew better than to hope that meant pain wasn’t going to come.

 

He had seen Relius when the king pardoned him. He had heard Relius’s reference to what the king had gone through and had heard rumors about what exactly had happened ever since. He had once volunteered to go under the knife himself if it would only prove that his family was innocent of his treason.

This was nothing, he told himself. He could handle it.

The knife in his shoulder twisted, and he couldn’t hold back a cry of pain.

The knife was jerked out, only to be stabbed in again, twisted and turned - 

His breath came in harsh pants. His head slumped down, still aching from the earlier hit and now swirling with dehydration and blood loss.

“Where is the king’s son?” Erondites said almost pleasantly.

Costis shook his head stubbornly. 

The knife was jabbed in again.

“Where is he?”

 _Let it end,_ Costis prayed. _Please, let it end._

He was pretty sure he had used up his allotment of miracles for the night.

The next knife seemed to prove it.

“Tell me where he _is!”_

A knife that had been heated in the fire was pressed against his hand. Against his will, Costis sobbed. His muscles burned from the unnatural position. He didn’t even want to think about the damage the knives had done.

“I see,” the baron said quietly. “You admire your king too greatly to tell me.” He teased one of the knives along Costis’s right wrist. “Perhaps I should help you be more like him?”

If he lost a hand, he would be out of the guard.

The ridiculousness of the thought struck him only a moment later, and a hysterical laugh escaped his bloodied lips. 

He was going to die here, tied to these posts, with no one knowing what had happened, and he was worried about his job?

“Do what you will,” he rasped. “I will tell you nothing.”

Erondites might have said something in response, but the darkness in front of his eyes was spreading too fast for Costis to care.

 

There was a hand shaking him. Costis refused to open his eyes. Maybe if he could dive back into the darkness everything wouldn’t hurt so much.

“Costis,” a voice said insistently. “Costis, where is my son?”

Costis shook his head. “Won’t tell you,” he mumbled. “Never tell.”

The hand stilled on his arm. “Costis, I’m sorry,” the voice said, and it sounded genuinely pained. 

Costis frowned in confusion.

The hand moved up to his shoulder and squeezed one of his wounds hard.

Costis let out a sharp cry and finally let his eyes fly open.

The vision that swam into view was almost enough to bring him to exhausted tears. “My king,” he said. “You’re alive.”

“I am,” the king agreed. “And so are you, and you shall remain that way, do you hear me?” His voice was tight. “But I need you to tell me what happened to my son.”

“Hid him in a hollow at the base of the cliff,” Costis said with a quiet sigh. “Behind the wall of rocks.” He frowned. “It’s not a very good hiding space,” he admitted. “I think Eugenides made it better. I should probably give him something.”

“Ten gold earrings,” his king murmured after a moment of stunned silence. “I’ll give him ten golden earrings if my son is still there.” He squeezed Costis’s arm again, not painfully this time. “I’ll be back,” he promised, and then he was gone.

Someone took his place and tried to start patching Costis up. They wanted Costis to stay awake, but Costis had done what he set out to do, and he let himself drift.

 

When he woke up again, it was in a proper tent with proper bandages wrapped around his wounds.

The king was sitting by his bedside with Damen fast asleep in his lap.

“My king,” Costis croaked.

The king’s attention was on him in an instant. He tugged a cup of water closer with his hook and picked it up to offer to Costis.

Costis struggled into a seated position and accepted it. “Thank you.” He drained it in one go. “Is the prince alright?”

“Damen is fine,” the king said. He looked down at the small figure in his arms with such intense emotion that Costis had to glance away. “He was quite delighted to have won the hiding game for so long. It’s the longest he’s ever managed.”

“Good,” Costis said in relief.

“You’ll be pleased to hear that you should also recover in due time. Erondites, however, was tragically killed in the fighting. I’m almost sorry. He deserved worse.”

Costis fully relaxed for the first time. “Then it’s all alright, then.”

The king smiled wryly. “For a given value of alright, certainly.” He hesitated. “You never told Erondites.”

“Of course not, sire,” Costis said, surprised. 

“Of course not,” his king echoed. “You did well, Costis. I’m grateful.”

Costis looked at the king doubtfully. “Grateful enough to stay off the roof for a few weeks so that your attendants won’t drag me out of bed in a panic?”

The king let out a surprised, delighted laugh. Damen stirred but snuggled deeper into his father’s shirt and didn’t wake. “You’d think they’d be past that by now. I cannot promise to stay off the rooftops, but I can at least promise to order them to summon someone else.”

“Like who?”

“I’ve no idea,” the king said cheerfully. “I’m eager to find out what they come up with. Rest up, Costis. They’ll be after you again soon enough.”

Costis groaned. He expected the king to leave after that, but instead he just settled back in his chair and began humming something Costis was unfamiliar with. From Eddis, probably. 

Whatever it was, he liked it. He was smiling as it soothed him back to sleep.


End file.
